


Pigeon

by levihatesyuu



Series: My Oneshots [5]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, One Shot, Other, Sad, Song Lyrics, not technically a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26363965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levihatesyuu/pseuds/levihatesyuu
Summary: a lyric fic where thomas misses newtlyrics from pigeon by cavetown !
Relationships: Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: My Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879537
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Pigeon

**Author's Note:**

> hah sorry.  
>  words in / are lyrics.  
> / like this /  
> enjoy !

/ Circling around the kitchen, why has nothing changed? /

Thomas was pacing slowly around the makeshift kitchen in the haven. His thoughts were still plagued with the death of his best friend. The murder was 5 months ago. Gally had moved on, Brenda, Frypan, even Minho had started making his old sarcastic jokes. Thomas doesn’t understand how they can just move on. Everyone is back to normal. But to Thomas, nothing feels right. His insides still knot when he hears Newt’s name. He still has to hide the tears threatening to fall whenever he gains a random memory of before the glade, they come in waves. Pushing the thoughts to a far corner of his mind, he makes a sandwich he knows he won’t finish. Thomas doesn’t think he’s finished one meal since he got here. He didn’t push the thoughts far enough though, they came back worse than before. He has to sit down when his vision gets blurry and his feet go numb. Nothing is in the right spot. Nothing fits without the glue.

/ Feed cucumber sandwich to a pigeon. Chipping nail varnish on guitar strings. /

As predicted, the sandwich was barely touched. It’s not that Thomas wasn’t hungry, he was, it just didn’t feel right that he got to eat and Newt didn’t. What did he have that Newt didn’t? It just wasn’t fair. Walking on a small trail that leads out of the haven he saw a small bird. The coloring made it look like a pigeon. Thomas threw the rest of his cucumber and mayonnaise sandwich to the bird, watching it hesitantly walk over and start pecking at one of the pieces of bread.

Since Thomas had come to the safe haven he started playing guitar. He wasn’t very good but he liked to think the notes were starting to blend together more seamlessly and his hands weren’t so stiff moving up and down the neck. When he got back to the small common house nobody was there, probably because it was 3 am and everyone was sleeping in their hammocks hanging outside. Thomas picked up the old guitar and started plucking away at the six thin strings. He didn’t think he was really playing any specific song, just a random melody he thought sounded nice. He found himself lost in thoughts and chords, playing for almost an hour without stopping. When the dull ache in his fingers finally made him stop, he looked down at his nails. The dark polish Brenda insisted would look nice was fading and cracking. Mostly from the guitar but it could also be from his excessive nail-biting when the urge to cry over his best friend overwhelmed him a little bit too much. Sighing and shaking his head, trying not to let the emotions find their way back to the front of his brain, he puts the guitar down. 

/ Got a pillowcase made out of money /

Thomas walked to his hammock and lay down. The stars were very prominent tonight. He studied them trying to think of anything but Newt. It was hard when the pillowcase behind his head felt like paper trying to give him a million papercuts on the back of his neck. Still, he didn’t move. Just looked directly up and out to the vast universe. Maybe there was a different world where Newt never died. He was still here, sleeping beside him in a hammock. Maybe on nights when it was cold they would sleep side by side trying to hold as much warmth between their bodies as they can. Thomas tried not to let his mind dwell on the thought for too long, he knows where it will end up. He lets his eyes close and feels himself slowly drift to sleep. He really doesn’t want to do this again tomorrow.

/ Feeling pretty fake when I wake up. /

The sun beats through his eyelids. Groaning he slowly sits up. Looking around he sees his friends talking and laughing. He wishes he could go back to normal. This doesn’t feel real. None of it. The day had just begun and it was already exhausting. Thomas threw his body back down.

/ Tissue paper castle paper caddy. Scaly little friend’s got my back, oh/

Thomas should be used to crying by now, used to the feeling of sticky eyes and uneven breathing. Used to running far away from camp just to scream and sob and finally let his emotions out. But somehow he isn’t. This time at least he had a small thing of tissues in his backpack when he left the group. The large pile of snot and tear-filled paper sits next to him. He was about to stand up and leave when he sees a small lizard. The still slightly crying boy holds his hand out and the lizard slowly climbs into his hand and closes its eyes. The way the lizard’s head cocked slightly to the side when Thomas spoke reminded him so much of Newt he had to put the lizard down to cry again.

A few minutes later when he was slightly calmed down, Thomas looked over and saw the lizard was still there. That made him smile.

/ Didn’t give me time to say goodbye in the way that I wanted to. /

Thomas had killed his best friend. There was no goodbye, no emotional speech about how much Newt meant to him. The bullet was shot and that was the end. Why was Newt so fucking stubborn. Why didn’t he let Thomas say goodbye?

/ So honey close your eyes and stay like you’re supposed to do. /

That night Thomas dreamt of him. Dreamt of Newt and him sitting in a field just talking about what it could have been. Everything could be so much different if life were just a little bit fair. The hours passed too quickly for Thomas’s liking and Newt had to leave. The living boy begged him to stay but Newt just looked away. Only until Thomas woke up he said. They lay back down on the grass in silence. They didn’t even need to talk. There was nothing to say to be honest. No words in any known language could express the longing both boys were feeling. What hurt the most is knowing this was just a dream. He wasn’t really talking to Newt. He could never talk to Newt again. 

/ Don’t you wanna give me time to write another song for you? /

Before the glade, if you can believe there was a before, Thomas loved music. He still does, showing itself in his guitar playing, but he would write little songs to go along with the guitar chords he would so often play. More often than not, the songs were about his friends. Teresa had the most but close behind was Newt. Thomas loved writing songs about the blonde boy, there was so much to write about. His kindness, his friendship, his accent, his smile, every little detail about the boy had been put into a song one time or the other. Granted, they were never really good since they were written by a teenage boy. But Newt always seemed to like them or at least pretended to. Thomas had tried to write a song for the first time in years but couldn’t get through the first verse without breaking down in hysterics. Maybe if Newt was still here he’d have inspiration. 

Stopping in his tracks Thomas realized something. Newt’s face had become slightly blurry in his mind. Obviously he still remembers what he looks like but the small details that he used to love aren’t there. Thomas doesn’t want to forget Newt. He won’t let it happen.

/ Fuzzy feeling and I miss you /

That feeling from yesterday, the numbness in his feet, came back. The world around him was spinning. Whenever he tried to suck in a breath an invisible force would punch it back out of him. This happened whenever he thought about Newt too much. This time was worse though. His head felt as if it was about to fall off. The waves of thoughts became more like tsunamis. The world was fading to black. Maybe Thomas had some health problem nobody could see and now he was dying. When he finally passed out it was scary how unafraid he was, even though he thought this was the end.

/ Why can nothing stay the same /

When Thomas finally woke up he was in the infirmary. Slowly he sat up, the dizziness in his head returning but not quite as bad as yesterday. Minho immediately forced him to lay back down and explained that Thomas was dehydrated so he passed out, or something, he couldn’t really listen with the loud ringing in his ears. His thoughts drowned out his best friends frantic toned voice. He misses before the maze, he misses his friends, he misses the bonds he made at WCKD, he misses Newt.

/ Fucking stupid head I’m gonna kill you. Melt all your art and drink the paint /

Thomas’s head genuinely felt as if was about ready to explode. He wishes he could just stop thinking. He wishes this stupid dehydration thing would go away. He wishes Newt was here. He knows this is unhealthy. He knows he will eventually need to cope with this and live wuthout Newt but how will he. How will he live knowing his best friend can’t because of him. Newt is dead because of Thomas. There’s no if. There’s no ‘maybe there was nothing he could do.’ There is. He could never say no to Newt. One time in the cafeteria the blonde asked for his pudding. Thomas hadn’t eaten at all that day but something about that boy was impossible to deny. God his head hurts.

/ I am not a beast, I’m not a monster /

Thomas tried to repeat that to himself quite often. He still doesn’t believe it.

/ I don’t care what you say /

Minho and Brenda are always trying to comfort him. Gally stopped trying months ago. Thomas doesn’t understand why they continue to say words of comfort or make him certain foods in an attempt to cheer him up. It doesn’t matter what they say or how often they say it. Nothing will change the fact that he is a murderer.

/ You can’t have bad guys without a hero. And I’m the only one who’s got a cape /

Thomas isn’t the hero of this story. He doesn’t understand why people think he is. Yeah, he’s got special blood, woopdedoo. There are so many other people that deserve the title of hero. Everyone helped take down WCKD. Everyone helped those kids escape. Thomas doesn’t deserve praise. Thomas deserves the fucking death penalty.

/ Didn’t give me time to say goodbye in the way that I wanted to. /

Newt is gone.

/ So honey close your eyes and stay like your supposed to do /

Maybe he should move on.

/ Don’t know how I’m gonna live without /

There must be some reason to keep going. Newt would have wanted him to keep going. Right?

/ But I’ll stay strong for you. /


End file.
